


Single Ladies

by icedaddy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, booty shorts, fishnet stockings, future married iwaoi, iwaoi dancing to single ladies, iwaoi eating disgusting shit, mattsun and makki as best men, stilettos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedaddy/pseuds/icedaddy
Summary: But because everything in his life has went downhill already, he doesn’t really care much about Hajime please-sit-on-my-face-with-your-thick-thighs of room 203 at the moment, only that he’s obviously judging him and his macaroni and ketchup and mayo.





	Single Ladies

**Author's Note:**

> i have absolutely no idea what i'm doing

Tooru has had enough. He’s been sobbing for three straight hours; his face reaching its peak ugliness with red blotches from crying – and that is saying a lot, for Tooru is never ugly. He’s been the face of their college for three straight years, and he’s only had a total of five ugly pictures of him, with three of it from his childhood. It has been the shittiest week he’s had in, like, forever; like life suddenly decided to shit on him and made his boss fire him, his boyfriend of two weeks dump him, and his cat die all in one week. Life wasn’t contented with that, of course, and it just had to send a god fucking thief to steal his laptop case.

When he felt like he can no longer cry more tears and the next fluid to come out of his eyes is blood, he headed to the dorm’s common kitchen and tried his pathetic best of making his odd concoction which he dubs as his comfort food because _fuck you, Janet, macaroni with ketchup and mayonnaise is valid, you’re just jealous because you probably burn boiled eggs_. He was in the middle of devouring his–in his opinion–three Michelin star dish when Hajime, the guy from room 203 beside his own, entered the kitchen. 

Now, normally he would have been ashamed of this scene: not because of his (god awful) food, no sir, he’s proud of that shit, but because he’s wearing his Donald Duck boxers and a loose, white, round neck shirt that says  _ It’s called a dilDO, not a dilDON’t  _ that Makki gave him as a Christmas present in front of Hajime I-can-bench-press-you-with-these-guns of room 203. He could have at least worn a deep v-neck shirt to preserve his last bit of dignity, but no, says Satan. But because everything in his life has went downhill already, he doesn’t really care much about Hajime please-sit-on-my-face-with-your-thick-thighs of room 203 at the moment, only that he’s  _ obviously  _ judging him and his macaroni and ketchup and mayo.

“What?! You never had a bad day before, huh, Mister Perfect? I bet you’re one of those guys who starts campaigns against pineapple on fucking pizza just because you can’t accept the fact that some people actually like it!” says Tooru, with snot and tears dripping down his face.

Hajime doesn’t say anything, only he searches for something inside the fridge and eventually grabbed a jar of pickles that Tooru is sure already passed its expiration date because he’s been seeing it there since Adam and Eve. Hajime holds his gaze while pouring a  _ shit ton  _ of Cheerios and mixing it with the pickles before drinking the milk  _ right out of the box  _ like a primate. All without dropping his stare at Tooru.

“Holy shit.” Tooru can’t help but mutter. Somehow, it feels like Hajime just asserted his alpha male dominance by eating pickles with Cheerios. Somehow, Tooru is also a tad bit aroused by it. “You too?” he asked. 

“Finals week.” Hajime simply says. 

“Ah, yeah I get you.” 

They sat in silence for about ten minutes, finishing their respective meals when Tooru decided that it’s a good idea to maybe slowly build a good conversation between them because Makki is somewhere doing field work in the Amazon rainforest, Mattsun is on call in the hospital since yesterday, and there’s no one he can really bother tonight to pour out his feelings other than this man in front of him having a shitty week as well, munching on his goddamn Cheerios with pickles. Maybe they can find solace in each other, and maybe Tooru can test if Hajime can really bench press him by the end of the week. 

“Hey.” Tooru tries to start the conversation. Hajime just makes a grunting noise, not different from what a dying animal would sound like. For others, it would have sounded like dismissal, but Tooru is bored and a little bit desperate for someone to talk to.

“You might be busy with finals week and all that, but I have this great idea and I need to destress but I can’t do it alone, so will you do it with me?” Tooru tried to sound as hopeful as possible, slightly regretful he currently doesn’t have the energy to unleash Media Smile # 4 which can convince even the grumpy old lady down the hall pick up his groceries for him. Hajime just raises his bushy eyebrows at him. Tooru doesn’t really expect him to agree with it, really, and he just blurted it out of boredom and borderline desperation, and maybe because he doesn’t really give a flying fuck. He just wants to do something other than mope and cry and deplete his supply of tissues. 

Of course, since nothing in his life is going the way he thinks it will, Hajime surprisingly says yes. 

This is how Mattsun found them the next morning snoring in the common room, both wearing stilettos, fishnet stockings, and booty shorts and clinging to each other like some affectionate octopi. No one had to know about the Single Ladies dance cover they did filmed on Tooru’s phone, though.

* * *

 

It was in the reception of Tooru and Hajime’s wedding when Mattsun and Makki unleashed their trump card, because what kind of best men are they if they don’t give the grooms a lifetime worth of humiliation. It may or may not be their retaliation from when Tooru played a clip of their almost-sex tape on their wedding, as well. No one will ever know the truth.

The intro of Single Ladies echoed throughout the banquet and the groomsmen ripped off their pants to reveal their own ensemble of booty shorts and fishnet stockings, with the 5-year old video of the couple in the LED screen being played along with the production number of the groomsmen. 

Suffice to say, Hajime’s grandmother had the shock of her lifetime. 


End file.
